


Unstoppable

by Rinso



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), In all honesty I'm not entirely sure where this is going, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Soulmates, Though it's not really a villain-based story, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinso/pseuds/Rinso
Summary: Star Wars Reylo-focused AU set at the end of Episode VIII. Will go completely AU pretty soon.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**The End is nothing but another Beginning**

 

 

They stand together, the bodies of the Praetorian Guards strewn across the throne chamber, the air filled with fire and smoke, and the burnt stench of Snoke’s bisected corpse.

 

Ben tosses the electrostaff of the last Guard aside, his other hand firm around the hilt of his grandfather’s lightsaber... of _Rey_ ’s lightsaber. He watches as her gaze flicks towards the screen that broadcasts the end of the Resistance.

 

Rey takes a deep breath, feeling the Force flowing through her and him both, through the crew of the _Supremacy_ and the rest of the First Order’s fleet, and the rebels fleeing from its cannons. The song of the Universe, incomprehensibly vast and mysterious, and achingly beautiful, is everywhere. Everything is connected. Her and him, the First Order and the Resistance, the Jedi and the Sith, the Light and the Dark... even life and death. It’s not a war, not really. Not where it matters, in the currents of gleaming shadows that make up the Force. It’s an endless cycle. A dance.

 

She’s only a scavenger from Jakku, she has barely even begun to understand the Force and what it means to wield it, and she just doesn’t have the words to describe the epiphany that shoots through every cell of her being.

 

And she finally has some semblance of an understanding about what happened at Starkiller Base.

 

They have the power to change it. All of it. Forever. She can feel the promise of the Force in the cold light of far-away stars, in the debris of the decimated rebel ships.

 

But they have to change themselves first.

 

And they have to let the past go.

 

It’s a two-way street.

 

He is supposed to be the snarling maw of darkness, Snoke had claimed, and she – the one chosen by the light to face him. Like his uncle had once faced his grandfather and the Emperor. Like countless Jedi and Sith have clashed, again and again, over the course of eons.

 

But Ben is not just the First Order’s black knight. He is ruthless and volatile, and his anger has always been almost... disturbing to behold, but he’s also capable of patience and kindness. There are sparks of light inside of him, and they can make him hesitate, make him _feel_. Snoke had tried to extinguish them, to cling to the old teachings of the Dark Side. And for all his might, that was the mistake that cost him his long life at the end, Rey realizes.

 

And Rey knows, she _knows_ that she is not what a Jedi should be either. Yes, she has fought against evil, she had even started to buy into the Resistance’s ideals. They sounded alluring and pretty, freedom and justice and peace, and all that. But a true Jedi is more than that, she now knows. It’s not about waving a lightsaber at bad people. The Jedi of old, Luke had told her in one of his few lessons, were supposed to surrender themselves to the light, fully and without remorse. They had to always place everyone else above themselves. They couldn’t afford to ever give in to fear or aggression.

 

They were supposed to be everything she is not. When she had beaten Ben back at that forest on Starkiller, she had been afraid and hurt and furious... and she had won. When it came right down to it, she was loyal to _people_ , not to idols. On Starkiller she fought Kylo to avenge Han and to save herself and Finn. Just now she had faced Snoke and slaughtered his Guards for Ben. But if she was asked to lay her life down for a faceless, nameless Galaxy... the scavenger in her almost growled at the thought.

 

Ben is darkness with a core of light, and she is light with claws of darkness.

 

Balance.

 

Harmony.

 

Perfect.

 

He steps towards her and sees her turn her back to the console as she mirrors his move. Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber falls forgotten from his grasp and the metal hilt clangs loudly against the floor as the two get closer.

 

They don’t need words.

 

They don’t even need the Force bond.

 

A look is all that is necessary.

 

We will make it better. All of it. We will start anew. You and I, we are born for this.

 

This is how she saves him.

This is how he corrupts her.

This is how she corrupts him.

This is how he saves her.

 

Light and Dark intertwine in the Force, without beginning and without end, and without a need for either.

 

They stop only when Ben’s arms are around her, only when she presses her lithe body to his large frame.

 

“Join me,” he murmurs.

“Together,”  she whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

 

 

This is how Hux finds them.

 

“Supreme L-” the words die in his throat as he runs into the throne room and sees Snoke’s remains.

 

He is beyond stunned. Beyond shocked.

 

Everything he had ever believed in, everything he had feared, everything he had secretly loathed, lies dead and discarded. He vaguely wonders if the Moffs and the Admirals of the old Empire had felt like that when they first heard of Palpatine’s demise.

 

“Lord Ren has completed his training,” a female voice breaks him out of the stupor and he sees Kylo Ren holding the scavenger that had been captured on Takodana and brought to Starkiller not a standard month ago. She doesn’t turn to look at the General as she speaks, and neither does Ren. “The Supreme Leader is dead.”

 

“Y-y-you...” Hux sputters, furious indignation rattling his very core. “You rebel scum! How dare y-”

 

And then his windpipe closes down and his lungs flare with agony. He grabs at his throat but his panicked fingers can’t fight off an attacker that doesn’t posses a corporeal form. He lets out a choked gurgle.

 

“Perhaps in your surprise you didn’t hear Lady Rey,” Ren’s voice is utterly calm as Hux falls on his knees, hard. The fire searing his body from the inside doesn't let the pain from hitting the durasteel deck register. “The Supreme Leader is dead.”

 

He releases Hux for a moment and he knows what he must do.

 

“Long live the Supreme Leader,” the General croaks and starts gulping air down desperately when the two of them walk past him and leave the charnel house that the throne chamber had been turned into.

 

He tries to ignore the stench of death and smoke as he breathes in. He fails.

 

Hux is, ultimately, a practical man. Prone to bursts of anger, of course, as he would admit himself if forced to, but ultimately practical. Being an officer of the First Order is a calling that requires a certain adaptability.

 

So all he can do as he is left panting and shell-shocked on the floor of the throne room, is to attempt to restore the equilibrium of his ordered, personal Universe and to shrug off the fact that it had been brought down without warning.

 

It is not easy.

 

And then, for a second, he thinks that he’s gone blind when he is engulfed by such a bright light that his eyes feel as if they’re about to melt from his face. Hux immediately shuts them closed, instinctively, and as his body curls up in fright he is not certain if he’s alive or dead. 

 

The light is quiet. 

 

Odd. He would have thought that something so powerful would be so loud that the force of the sound itself could strip the flesh from your bones. 

 

The sounds only come later. 

 

The flagship of the Resistance rams itself into the First Order fleet at lightspeed as Amilyn Holdo ignites the Universe with her sacrifice, giving her fellow rebels the chance to flee to the planet below.

 

Hux doesn’t come to the realization of what has just transpired at once, of course. Even his analytical, ophidian mind, still not recovered from the sight of the Supreme Leader's carcass, reels from shock and terror for a few moments after he comes through and it’s only when the white silence is torn apart by the thunder of explosions and the distant death throes of his glorious fleet falling apart in clouds of debris turned to space dust and beams of galvanized antimatter finally break through his haze when he realizes that the Resistance has slipped through their fingers. Again. 

 

To his own astonishment, his first thought is about the new Supreme Leader and his accomplice.

 

For the first and last time in his life, Hux admits to himself, plainly and simply, that since those two had managed to murder Snoke, they must – logically – be the most dangerous creatures in the Galaxy. Save perhaps for the Knights, but those fanatics were cut from the same cloth as them anyways.

 

Hux has never understood the Force on anything more than an intellectual level. He knows it exists, he knows it is destructive, he knows it has been a part of Galactic history ever since there _was_ Galactic history, and he knows that it can turn men into monsters.

 

However, now he also knows he fears it. And that fear tells him more than all the scientific analysis in the Galaxy ever could. 

 

He wishes that his hatred for Ren - the _Supreme Leader_ , a part of his brain corrects itself immediately, because all living beings have an instinct of self-preservation and he must learn to _think_ of Ren like that if he wants to live - was stronger than his fear of the Force. 

 

But it isn't. 

 

And for the first and last time in his life, Hux senses a smidgen of sympathy for the Resistance stirring withing his heart. It fills him with self-disgust.  

 

Because he can feel it in his bones, chilling him down to the marrow. Creatures like that will not tolerate such a daring attack. And the sorry band of rebels has as much of a chance to survive their retaliation as would a candle against a Yavin monsoon.

 

The moment of compassion and fear is gone as his heartbeat calms down and his cold mind shrugs off the emotional wreckage, beginning to wonder and estimate the damage done to the _Supremacy_. Sounds of the ship struggling and failing to maintain structural integrity echo in the distance, but since the icy vacuum of space has not claimed him yet, he surmises that all is not beyond salvage. 

 

He staggers back to his feet and the deck sways and trembles beneath him, and his whole body hurts, his ears are ringing and his vision is slightly blurry, but he forces himself to straighten his shoulders because he already knows what’s going to happen. Fully factoring the destruction Holdo just brought to the fleet is still impossible – after all, at this point it will be nothing but guesswork so all he can do is assume the worst and work from there – but he nonetheless begins calculating the resources and troops needed for the ground assault he knows he is soon going to be ordered to conduct down on Crait. He doesn’t spare another glance at Snoke’s corpse as he turns his back on the throne room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

 

 

It begins with Rey’s spirit frozen in absolute, utter anger.

 

The Force around her swirls in icy currents that remind him of the blizzards that had tormented Starkiller Base, and perhaps it is their bond, but he can swear that he somehow knows exactly what she is experiencing right now.

 

Her anger is not a thing of reason. Its roots are buried deep within the darkest trenches of her heart.

 

As the massive hull of the _Supremacy_ groans like a wounded beast in the aftermath of the hyperspace explosion that took off most of their fleet, she stands up on unsteady legs and her hazel eyes glint with fury, and all Kylo Ren can think of is how exquisite she looks when she lets her wrath consume her.

 

He watches her from below, not quite bothering yet to get up himself, and he senses an odd serenity wash over him. It somehow seems appropriate, to look up at her from the ground. It’s almost like worship, but it also feels darker, more intimate. He doesn’t stop to question his emotions, the only thing he can do is embrace them.

 

Stars, but his bondmate is magnificent when she’s angry. Looking back, he can see it in his memories of their duel at Starkiller too. But then his mind slips into hers with ease and he sees the cracks from whence the anger sprouts from.

 

She feels as if the Resistance has abandoned her. They have abandoned her, and they have almost killed her in doing so.

 

And it’s not the first time when she has drank from the bitterness that fills this cup.

 

Cold rain whips at a young woman as Luke Skywalker turns his back on her, demonstrating that to him she’s nothing but a failure who is not worth his time.

 

A little girl cries out at the sky while the cruel, rust-laden winds of Jakku blast away at her skin and her innocence as a ship flies away.

 

Kylo frowns.

 

“I was going to ask you to spare their lives,” she bits through clenched teeth as he finally stands up and hobbles towards her.

 

“They’re not worthy of your mercy,” he sighs and reaches a gloved hand to brush a lock of brown hair away from her face, cupping her cheek as he does so.

 

She looks at him and he can pinpoint the moment her will breaks down and the sorrow drowns the anger down. The physical representation of the shift is noticeable in the way her fiery gaze dims down, in the line that appears between her eyebrows, in the quick tremors of her slender throat.

 

But the true extent of it he feels in the Force.

 

In the Force, Rey is a pulsar of self-flagellation that twists at his gut.

 

His bondmate is distraught, and he no longer feels like the worshiper of an angry goddess.

 

He no longer feels like the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the Master of the Knights of Ren.

 

He no longer feels like the man who just vanquished his true enemy.

 

He feels almost like the naive, clumsy, weak Ben Solo when his voice betrays him and he blurts out, “They were nothing, Rey.”

 

She blinks and looks up at him, tears welling into her eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“Your parents. I saw them. There were nothing but filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money. It’s not your fault.” He hopes she can sense the earnestness of his words in the Force so she can lay her pain to rest. They have to turn their back on all of that. He is certain of that, as certain as he is in the stars that shine in the darkness of space. They _must._ He swallows, his throat feeling raw and dry. “And my uncle is nothing but a weakling and a coward. He’s the one who failed, not you.”

 

She shakes her head, refusing to listen, to truly _hear_ what he’s saying. “I... I’m... I’m _nothing_ , Ben.”

 

“You’re _everything_ ,” he all but snaps before he wills his breathing to slow down. It is only now when he notices that his hand is still resting on her cheek and he lowers it down.

 

His bondmate looks deep into his dark eyes and he can feel her finding the strength she needed to anchor herself there.

 

“I’m not going to ask you,” she finally says. He tilts his head at her, not quite certain of what she speaks. “To spare them. The Resistance,” she clarifies. “It’s _your_ mother and her men. It’s _your_ right to decide what to do. I’m done with them.”

 

Before he can answer, they hear footsteps echoing in the hallway of the ship and a squadron of Stormtroopers rounds the corner. Their white armors looks worse for wear, marred with soot and splotches of burned plastoid. Not all of them have their blasters, a few are missing their helmets and some seem in obvious pain as they walk.

 

One of them stops before Kylo and Rey. He looks at her for a second before saluting Kylo.

 

“Lord Ren, sir,” even through the modulator in his cracked helmet, his voice is hoarse and tired. “We think we got the situation under control. They’re still trying to establish comms with the rest of the fleet. The rebels managed to land their crafts on Crait. What are your orders?”

 

He turns his eyes to Rey and he knows what he must do.

 

“We’re going down there,” he declares, without hesitation, never breaking contact with his bondmate. “And we’re going to finish this.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

 

Rey takes the time to reflect on how peculiar their bond in the Force is as she feels his impatience surge and crackle all around the cockpit, making the pilots and the crew twitch with nervousness without realizing why.

 

Before she left Jakku, she had little to no knowledge of things like seas and lakes. The idea of massive bodies of water sitting there just like that seemed a little nonsensical in the dry, deadly wastelands. It was after Takodana and Ahch-To when she began to understand the concept better.

 

And in retrospect the constant push and pull between her and Ben reminds her of the way the waves invade and retreat from the shore. Eternal and perpetual.

 

When the rebels made their move and shattered the First Order fleet, _she_ had been the furious one. Perceiving their actions as yet another in a life-long string of betrayals, illogical and irrational as it may have been since they didn’t even know she was on board the _Supremacy_ , she had allowed anger and weakness to rule over her until Ben had been able to bring her back with a few words and a touch.

 

Even hours later, she is still a little mortified when she thinks about it.

 

Not because she had minded having him touch her, or because the revelation about her parents had shaken her. If anything, in retrospect she now realizes that it’s a truth she has always known but was too afraid to admit to herself.

 

What has her mortified is how weak her anger had made her. How vulnerable and brittle. Even if it had been for a short time. Because it was not the same anger that had given her the strength to triumph over Ben on Starkiller and the tenacity to face Snoke’s Praetorian Guard with only Ben on her side. This was not the product of adrenaline pounding inside her veins as the Force rang and hummed around her and she fought for survival. This anger had been born of the pain and the fear of the past and it brought nothing but weakness and self-doubt.

 

She understands now why he feels the need to see the Resistance destroyed.

 

The past has to be killed. And the Resistance is to him what Jakku is to her.

 

It’s a poisoned legacy that will see him dragged down and destroyed on the inside if he allows it.

 

If there is to be any hope for the promise the Force had sang to her in Snoke’s throne chamber, they could never allow the weaknesses of the past to fester into their hearts and rule their future. There is no room for hesitation and sniveling.

 

And as the column of AT-ATs advances on the old base where the rebels have holed up, Rey takes a deep breath and lets her mind sink into the Force.

 

She soars over the remnants of the skirmish that had exploded when Hux brought down that siege cannon of his in order to batter down the thick gates of the rebel base, almost able to taste the salty wind rustling her hair and to smell the bitter smoke. She senses, rather than sees, the last members of the Resistance inside the base.

 

In the Force, their lives flicker amidst the darkness, still bright, but so few in number. Instinctively, she recognizes General Organa, who burns brighter than the rest, though her presense in that pulsating web of shadow and light is not nearly as overwhelming as her son and her brother’s.

 

Or her own, she suspects, without arrogance.

 

And then it happens.

 

The Force is suddenly aflame with Ben’s fury and she feels a presence she had not felt since she left Ahch-To.

 

She snaps her eyes open.

 

Vaguely, she registers that Ben is shouting at Hux and the Stormtroopers around them, raging and ordering the AT-ATs to open fire at Skywalker all at once. He wants him utterly obliterated. His fury has blinded him.

 

Because he doesn’t see it for the trick it is.

 

Because he is not like her and has never experienced anything like her past.

 

Before the Force was awakened within her, Rey had lived as a scavenger. A scavenger had to trust her gut and her instincts if she wanted to survive in the harsh wastes of Jakku. A scavenger needed a nose to smell, ears to hear, teeth to bite, fingertips to touch, fists to fight... and eyes to see. Sharp eyes, to spot danger and minute details.

 

And now, although the Force tells her that Luke Skywalker is _here_ , that he had come to defy them in some sort of a grand last stand... Rey’s eyes tell her a different story.

 

“It’s not him,” she says softly.

 

They don’t hear her, Hux and the officers, and the pilots, and the troopers.

 

But Ben does. And this is when their bond reminds her of the rhythm of the sea.

 

Aboard the _Supremacy_   the wounds of her past had made her angry and weak. And right now, within the cockpit of the AT-AT, it’s his past that can cost him everything.

 

 _What?_ Rey senses a mixture of confusion and annoyance through the Force as his voice reverberates inside her bones. _Of course it’s him! I know my damned uncle, Rey!_

 

 _No, you don’t_.

 

_What are you talking about?_

 

Rey wonders just how many years was it since the two of them had not seen each other. Five? Ten? She isn’t completely sure, but the spry, brown-haired warrior who came out of the rebel base and is now standing in front of the AT-ATs is not the tired old man she met on the island.

 

“It’s not him,” she repeats aloud, “Unless he stopped somewhere to get a haircut and dye his beard before he got here, and shook off a decade while he was at it. We’re seeing what he wants us to see. I...” Rey hesitates, “I suspect this apparition resembles the last time he looked at a mirror. I doubt he’s on Crait at all.”

“But... but _how_?” She realizes that Hux has started to listen, and the General sounds so befuddled that she has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing in his pale face.

 

Instead she looks at Ben and _his_ face is flustered and twisted in hatred.

 

“Get me down there,” he growls at nobody in particular.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

 

 

The salt crunches beneath her feet as she and Ben move from the colossal shadows of the AT-ATs to stand before Luke Skywalker.

 

Up close, his apparition looks so jarringly different than the defeated old man she met on Ahch-To that Rey doesn’t know whether she should be amused at his attempt to trick them, or to just feel pity because of it.

 

Then again, it probably would have worked – at least for a while – had she not been at Ben’s side. Remembering the way his wrath had flared and burned in the Force when he first saw his uncle emerging from the base, she has little doubt that Ben would be beyond the reach of rationality and reason for some time before he realized that he had been played for a fool.

 

The thought of someone mocking him like that irks her. Especially when this someone is the uncle who was supposed to protect and teach him, and tried to murder him instead. A scowl slowly moves her features around the closer they get.

 

Next to her, Ben’s long, heavy strides leave crimson marks in the salt. His jaw is clenched and his dark eyes glimmer with barely held hatred. The Force crackles and whips around him, and it reminds her of the sharp sound his lightsaber makes.

 

Skywalker, on the other hand, looks calm, at ease, and nothing like his true self as he waits for the new masters of the Galaxy to come to him.

 

His hair is shorter and not nearly as unkempt, his beard is not streaked with grey and his face is not as weathered and wrinkled. Even his posture seems more virile and confident. It’s a ridiculous display, really.

 

“Ben,” Luke gives his nephew a nod, and then looks past his shoulder, “Rey.” His voice is polite and betrays little, if any, real emotion. “I confess I am surprised to see the two of you together. I thought Snoke would have made you turn on each other.”

 

“Snoke is dead,” Rey replies flatly and Luke doesn’t seem very impressed by that revelation. Perhaps he had sensed the Supreme Leader’s demise in a distant Force tremor back on his little, windy island. “The First Order is no longer under his control.”

 

“And I presume it’s now under yours?” Skywalker raises a dark eyebrow at her, skepticism heavy in his voice.

 

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Ben cuts in, his voice grating and hostile. He is barely holding himself together, and Rey tries to soothe him through the Force. _I am here, you are not alone, we are in this together, he doesn’t matter anymore, do not let him use your anger against you._ She doesn’t know if she is strong enough to anchor him fully, but she can sense his energy reaching out for hers, almost desperately. She wants to give him all he needs to stay grounded and strong.

 

But then Skywalker speaks again, and once again sends Ben spiraling down. “So now I have to deal with two Supreme Leaders instead of one, is that the way of it?”

 

“It’s not like that,” Rey steps forward as Ben bares his teeth and clenches his fists so hard that she can hear the leather of his black gloves creaking. “We’re not like Snoke and we’re going to fix it, all of it...”

 

“I’ve heard talk that before, Rey,” Luke answers and for a moment she can feel soft sadness in the Force, quiet ache for things lost and forgotten, “I have been alive a lot longer than you, you know.”

 

“No, you have been a failure a lot longer than her,” Ben hisses.

 

“Like you failed to resist Snoke and the Dark Side?” Luke gives him a mirthless, lopsided smile.

 

“Enough!” Ben snarls and Luke looks at him so serenely that Rey nearly flinches from the fury that explodes in her bondmate’s soul. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, visibly composing himself. “Do you think we don’t know that you’re not really on this planet? What do you hope to accomplish here, _uncle_?” He spits out the last word as if it was poisonous.

 

“I think I can ask you the same, Ben,” Luke replies softly, nodding towards the row of AT-ATs lined behind Rey and Ben. “Because from where I’m looking at it, this seems like an odd way to try and get your mother’s attention. Or,” he rolls his shoulders like a warrior who expects violence to erupt very, very soon and yet is still calm and unperturbed, “Are you just trying to finish what you started on Starkiller Base when you drove that _thing_ you call a lightsaber through Han’s chest?”

 

This is when the Force around them shatters like glass and Rey’s whole being shudders.

 

Ben lets out a primal, ugly cry and his red lightsaber shrieks through the air as he activates it and rushes at Luke Skywalker’s apparition. In the Force he is like a fiery comet, with a trail of blazing fury, hatred and pain.

 

_BEN, DON’T!_

 

But it is no use, he is already upon his uncle and slashes wildly down at him, kicking up a cloud of salt crystals in his wake.

 

Nothing happens.

 

Because, of course, Luke’s real body is on the other end of the Galaxy and not even Ben’s power can reach him there.

 

She watches as Luke gives her bondmate an almost insolent smirk and she sees Ben seething and panting.

 

And then, to her horror, behind them she sees the _Millenium Falcon_ exploding skywards from the mountain beneath which the Resistance had hidden themselves. Somehow, Chewbacca had survived the near-destruction of the _Supremacy_ and had made his way down to Crait.

 

And she knows that it is too late now.

 

 _That’s_ what he was trying to accomplish.

 

And he _still_ succeeded even as they knew he was up to something.

 

The Corellian freighter has jumped before she can even think to signal the AT-ATs to aim and open fire, its hyperspace engines booming in the cloudless sky.

 

“See you around, kids,” Luke Skywalker grins at them before his apparition melts away like mist in the wind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

 

 

The base is, predictably, abandoned.

 

His knees hit the ground but the jolt of pain that reverberates up his legs is nothing compared to the sting of his corroding spirit.

 

A part of him wants to lash out, like he’s used to, to ignite his lightsaber and turn his rage to the surroundings, perhaps even slice up a few of the Stormtroopers trailing behind. It had been his way to vent out the pent up aggression that the Dark Side had woken in him, but it had also been a sign of his weakness and turmoil. If it is to be of any use at all, anger has to be chained within your heart, a controlled force that is to be unleashed with precision and forethought. _That_ much, at least, Snoke had managed to impart on him before he died.

 

Unconsciously, Kylo reaches out with the Force and senses Rey next to him, although her presence feels unfocused and blurred. Her disappointment hangs over her like a stormy cloud, and he can almost audibly hear her thoughts, as certain as he can read through the echo of her emotions in the aether, _I failed, I failed, I failed._

 

She’s only partially right. Because this is his fault as well.

 

But the important thing is that they didn’t put an end to the past.

 

The Resistance escaped.

 

Slipped through their fingers like eels, all thanks to his uncle’s diversion.

 

A surge of bitter fury overwhelms him and his precarious control is soon forgotten, as he pounds a gloved fist into the ground, again and again. The pain feeds his anger, and in turn it makes the Dark Side thunder and weave around him, the walls of the old base shaking as the layers of hardened sediment and salt tremble under the assault of his failure.

 

He doesn’t register Rey kneeling before his crumpled form until he feels her hands, one cupping his chin and lifting his head up so their eyes can meet, the other gripping his own to stop him from shattering his own bones on the rocks.

 

They just stare at each other for a while.

 

It seems like a lifetime ago to Kylo, when the two of them stood victorious in his old master’s throne room and the Force was perfect, promising them a glorious future. It seems like all had gone wrong since then. It seems like their quest will be an eternal pursuit, without end and without ultimate triumph.

 

And yet...

 

Yet he _knows_ he’s not wrong.

 

He knows that the woman before him is the only person in existence that is not only his equal in power, but also the only one meant to fill the missing pieces of him with her own essence. Just like he was meant to be the one for hers. He knows they are made for each other. They are so alike and so different at the same time, two melodies in the stream of the Universe that turned into a symphony only when brought together.

 

He knows that it is their destiny to reshape the Galaxy.

 

And when his other hand shoots up to the back of her head, tangling greedy fingers into her brown hair, a small part of Kylo sighs inwardly, wishing that this moment was brought on by their triumph instead of their failure, but the rest of him needs his bondmate far too much to care. They will succeed eventually. How can they not?

 

Rey’s beautiful eyes widen when his grip tightens and he brings her face down, but she doesn’t fight him. She can sense his intentions in the Force and is not intimidated or frightened. When the two of them are close enough so her delicate nose can nearly touch his, her eyes flutter close and her lips part.

 

This is the first kiss they share. This is the first kiss each of them has ever experienced, the harsh, constant fight for survival she called life that she led on Jakku not really conductive of such endeavors, and his training as a Jedi from a young age followed by his service to Snoke equally as prohibitive.

 

Their bodies and their mouths are inexperienced but their spirits are aligned. Their thoughts and emotions bleeding together, the need to offer and seek reassurance and consolation too great to be ignored. He feels her hands digging hard into his shoulders as his fingers rake through her hair, messing it up. Both their lips are dry and cracked from the heat that washes constantly over Crait, their muscles aching and exhausted, first from the fight against the Praetorian Guard, then from the _Supremacy_ ’s almost-destruction followed by the invasion on the planet, but none of it matters, in that moment of desperate need.

 

And so they kiss, desperately and guilelessly, in the old ruins of the rebel base beneath the mountain on Crait, and they silently vow to each other that this will not be the end of their dream.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

 

She’s sitting in Han’s seat in the _Falcon_ ’s cockpit, staring blankly at the dashboard as the auto-piloted course is slinging them through hyperspace and feeling every second of her fifty three years.

 

She wishes Han was here.

 

He would know what to do. He always did in situations like this.

 

And so should she, she supposes – after all, this is hardly the first time she had narrowly escaped mortal danger.

 

But this is not like them getting chased across the Galaxy by the Empire, back when they were young and full of hope, and the stars shone brighter.

 

Liea Organa Solo, leader of the Resistance, founder of the New Republic, Princess of Alderaan and of the blood of Naboo is exhausted. She doesn’t know how many blows can she take at this point.

 

Her husband is dead. Her son murdered him, just like he means to murder everything she spent a lifetime fighting for.

 

“Should we go to Ahch-To to collect Luke?” Chewie asks her in Shyriiwook from the co-pilot seat.

 

She shakes her head, no. Because her brother is dead too.

 

Leia is not sure _how_ she knows that. But it comes with the same profound certainty that had once washed over her when he revealed to her that they were, in fact, siblings. Back then, it seemed like something within her simply clicked in place, like an emptiness in her heart had been filled with light and everything was right with the world. And now, the light is no more and that place inside her is once more a void. There’s nothing for her on Ahch-To.

 

At least she got to see Luke one last time back on Crait, even it wasn’t _really_ him. She didn’t even get that much with Han, Han who she sent to his death.

 

Something stirs in the corner of her vision, making her eyes glance around and then she notices _him._ Chewie doesn’t, and Leia knows that neither would any of the other members of the Resistance.

 

“Go and check on the others, Chewie,” she tells the Wookie softly, keeping her voice calm. “I have things under control here.”

 

Chewie gives her a long look before he stands up and turns to exit the cockpit. She feels a gentle pat on her shoulder and she welcomes the warmth that springs into her soul, although a part of her can’t help but wonder when she’s going to lose Chewie too. She lost everyone else she loved, after all.

 

When Chewie is gone, she turns on her seat and can nearly feel her eyes grow colder when she fixes them on him.

 

“What do you want?” Her voice is clipped, her throat feels tight and her stomach twists unpleasantly.

 

He doesn’t answer at once, instead he moves to sit in the co-pilot seat that Chewie just vacated.

 

“You shouldn’t be alone now,” he tells her simply, no trace of hostility in his tone.

 

 _I’d rather be alone and stranded on a deserted planet in an empty system than talk to you,_ is what Leia wants to say, but she doesn’t. Instead she sneers at him, “If that is the Force’s idea of a joke, it really isn’t droll.”

 

Anakin Skywalker’s ghost smiles at her. It’s not a smile full of joy and laughter, but his eyes are soft when he looks her over.

 

“I’m proud of you, Leia,” he says. “If it wasn’t for you, your people wouldn’t have escaped in time.”

 

For a second, she feels like she’s still on Crait and the rockslide that blocked their path to freedom was floating in the air, pebbles swirling around her outstretched arm.

 

“As if your approval ever meant anything to me,” she snorts, very much unlike a Princess.

 

She finds it mildly infuriating how much she still dislikes standing next to him. She should be over it, honestly. Her father died over thirty years ago, and yet his shadow still hangs over her.

 

Leia forces herself to really look at the image the Force had made for him and saw fit to show her.

 

He doesn’t look like Darth Vader did in life, obviously. Gone are the black armor, the heavy cloak, the skull-like mask and the metal helmet. In their place stands a man, as young as Ben is if not more, with long blonde hair, and a handsome face. He reminds her a little of Luke in his youth, but taller, more muscular and more dashing. One eyebrow is split by a small scar, but other than that there is nothing outwardly sinister or ugly about his appearance.

 

Luke had spoken with their father’s ghost in the past, she knows. He used to tell her about it from time to time, and had even explained how Anakin fell to the Dark Side and became Darth Vader. The melodramatic story how Palpatine tricked him and used his love for their mother for his own gain didn’t get a whole lot of sympathy from her back then, and the long years since have not changed that. To her he will always remain the man who stood by and let Tarkin destroy Alderaan, regardless if he called himself Skywalker or Vader. To her he will always be the reason why she never got to know her real mother and why she didn’t grow up next to her twin. To her he remains the monster who had Han tortured and mutilated Luke on Bespin. 

 

 _Did you know that his last words were about you?_ Luke asked her once, when they argued about him. She didn’t, of course. How was she supposed to know something like that, anyway? _Tell your sister you were right about me, that’s what he said to me just before he died. He regretted everything he did as Vader and redeemed himself, Leia. Why can’t you see that?_

_Because I hate him, Luke!_ She had screeched at him, furious. Her brother had left after that, wordlessly.

 

“Why you?” She asks, finally. “Why not Luke or Obi-Wan? Stars, I could have even stomached Yoda. Why did it have to be _you_ to appear to me?”

 

“So you felt it?” Anakin answers with a question of his own, ignoring her belligerence. His expression is frustratingly soft. “When Luke became one with the Force?”

 

And then, suddenly, it’s like all the fight has left her.

 

“Did he suffer?” Leia whispers, praying she wouldn’t begin to cry, not in front of him.

 

Her father shakes his head. “No. He went in peace.”

 

“Will I see him again? Like I see you now?” She resents how small her voice is.

 

“I don’t see why not. Although, keep in mind that it’s not as if one can just pop out of the afterlife on a whim, you know,” he tries to make a joke about it, his tone light yet still heartfelt.

 

It’s then when she finally breaks down and the tears begin to fall from her eyes. She takes a shuddering breath and tries to hide her pain from him, shielding her face with a trembling hand.

 

She never cried when the Hosnian System had been obliterated.

 

She never cried when Han died.

 

She never cried when Amylin sacrificed herself to give them time to escape.

 

Why is she crying now, in front of _him?_

 

Ghosts, apparently, don’t make noise when they move because she barely registers him kneeling next to her side before he says, “I am so sorry, Leia.” His voice is so soft that she barely hears him.

 

“What for?” She wipes at her eyes, angrily, and yet the tears keep on. Her question is actually not rhetorical. He has too many atrocities and sins to answer for, so a mere _I’m sorry_ means next to nothing.

 

“Everything,” Anakin sighs. “Luke managed to turn me away from the darkness, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret falling in the first place. Or losing our family. But right now, I’m sorry that you’re hurting. I know you hate me, but you’re my daughter and I would spare you from this if I could.”

 

His eyes are looking up at her, sad and blue.

 

“Well, you can’t.” She sniffs and she thinks she will get her emotions under control any moment now. A lifetime spent fighting against evil gives her an idea how to turn this around. Attack is an excellent tool for defense, after all. “Why do you care how _I_ feel, anyway?” She purposefully slips a cruel bite into her tone. “Why aren’t you appearing to your grandson instead, to congratulate him for walking in your steps?”

 

It is a low blow, and she knows it.

 

She also feels enough satisfaction at the pain that shines in Anakin’s eyes to actually stem the tears and slow her breathing.

 

“I can’t reach Ben, Leia,” he says, sorrow filling his voice. “When one becomes a slave to the darkness, the light can never touch him again unless he seeks it himself. Believe me, I _know_.”

 

“Han thought it was because of you he turned out the way he did,” she says, averting her gaze from him and the compassion in his eyes. They’re far too human for her liking. It’s almost as if she would prefer Vader’s expressionless mask. “Perhaps he was right.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin Skywalker whispers again and when she looks down at him, he’s no longer there.

 

It's only then when she notices that venting out her anger at him had somewhat soothed her own self-loathing. She doesn't spend time wondering if that had been his design all along.

 

* * *

 

 

It is a almost a week later and hundreds of randomized hyperspace jumps meant to shake off any pursuers when the _Falcon_ docks in a small, run-down space port orbiting an insignificant gas planet somewhere in the Outer Rim. They need to refuel and they need to buy food and medical supplies. Most of the Resistance stays on board, Leia among them. Her face is far too recognizable, even in this den of runaways and smugglers.

 

Finn and Poe are the ones who venture out into the port, accompanied by BB-8 as always. She expects the duo to be gone for at least a couple of hours, so when Finn comes running back into the ship not even half an hour later, yelling for her, Leia is a little surprised.

 

“General!” The former Stormtrooper stops in his tracks when she emerges from her quarters to see what the commotion is about and puts his hands on his knees, bending slightly to take a breather. Behind him a few members of the Resistance glance at him curiously and C-3PO is lamenting his lack of manners, but she focuses her attention on Finn. He’s panting heavily and his skin is covered in sweat, as if he ran the whole time. “You...” He tries to speak but it actually takes him a few moments to gather enough air to do so. “You have to come. It’s all over the whole HoloNet and it’s making the rounds on every public screen in the station.”

 

“What are you talking about?” She blinks at him, confused.

 

“It’s...” He hesitates, “It’s about Ren. The First Order has gone to Coruscant. They’re going to reform the Empire.”

 

“They? Who’s _they_? Don’t you mean Snoke?”

 

Finn shakes his head furiously.

 

“They’re saying Snoke’s dead,” he pants. “Ren is the new Supreme Leader... Or the new Emperor, or soon to be, I s’pose. And he’s got Rey with him.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

 

A small, black shuttle leaves hyperspace just outside Coruscant’s gravity well and purposefully descends towards the surface, its engines humming ominously. For a split second, as the shuttle flies by the orbital mirrors that disperse sunlight down to every corner of the planetwide city, it seems as if it’s followed by incorporeal, almost translucent shadows that dim the light. The moment is over as soon as it passes.

 

Down and down the shuttle flies, ignoring the traffic aerolanes that litter Coruscant’s cityscape day and night. The scarlet insignia of the First Order is painted upon its wings and every other craft in the sky is giving it a wide berth. This is not a typical military vessel, as its sleek, sinister design could attest. These spaceships are reserved for a very specific, very elite group of beings.

 

Making its way past shining towers and looming skyscrapers, cutting through the traffic as if it doesn’t care about any inconvenience it causes, the black shuttle eventually finds its way to the Imperial District and, finally, it lands at one of the Palace’s more secluded, inner courtyards. The extensive security forces stationed all around do nothing; there are no hails for identification, no demands to follow protocols. The people who use these shuttles are free to do as they please.

 

This is the fourth such ship to land at the Palace today.

 

Finally, after all those years, the Knights of Ren are fully reunited.

 

* * *

 

The two masked figures stalk the hallways of the Imperial Palace with purpose. Following the deaths of Snoke and Skywalker, Coruscant will once again be the home of the Galactic Empire.

 

But this time it’s going to be different.

 

Lorredyn Ren is tall and almost skeletal. His black hood hangs low over his multi-goggled obsidian helmet. His brother Straxa is somewhat shorter and bulkier, and yet oddly graceful. They both have a confident, self-assured gait. Stormtroopers and Palace personnel, officers and servants alike, everybody makes sure to scurry away from their path.

 

Neither of them has ever set foot on Coruscant and they have no idea of the layout of this place. So they simply let the Force lead them, as they descend through the maze that composes the innards of the Imperial Palace.

 

It doesn’t take them long to reach their destination.

 

First they feel the combined presence of the others in the Force.

 

And then they hear lightsabers clashing.

 

Curious.

 

So curious, in fact, that when the two brothers finally join their comrades, deep below the Palace, they are not prepared for the sight that greets them.

 

Not enough to visibly rattle them, of course, and so they calmly step next to the other Knights and let themselves bask in the feeling of their order at long last getting back together. 

 

The Knights of Ren rarely take their masks off. One reason for it is nothing more than pragmatism. Intimidation is one of their trades, and the expressionless helmets are a useful crutch to that end. But there is more than that. New as it may be, their order is still steeped in the Dark Side, and a lot of their rituals and traditions revolve around revering the great Lord Vader – their very Master is his own grandson, and Lord Vader’s face had only ever been revealed but to a select few.

 

The real reason, the one that is beneath everything else, is the same as what had driven them all to create new names and identities for themselves. The Jedi they once had been are dead. They have seared the past off and have been reforged to a new existence, a different purpose. Their faces, just like their names, belong to a time that was lost, buried and forsaken.

 

Only when they are with each other, they all feel that they didn’t need the masks. Not truly. Faces are just flesh. All the Knights of Ren need to remind each other of their calling is to look into each other’s eyes.

 

And so when they finally reach the others Lorredyn and Straxa are feeling comfortable enough to take their helmets off, just like the other four had already done. Without the masks, the familial resemblance between the two is obvious, and the brothers look at the rest of their small order.

 

Castior Ren seems imposing as he always did, his broad shoulders level and his muscular back straight. He has a pensive expression on his bearded face, and some of his scars seem recent. He barely acknowledges Lorredyn and Straxa, almost completely focused in the duel that’s going on before them. 

 

Taenestra Ren has gained a few inches of height since the last time the Knights were together, but her body still seems small and frail. Not even Lord Ren himself knows why their youngest’s growth is so stunted. She had been still a child when Skywalker’s Academy was destroyed, but she was also the first to join Lord Ren. By now Taenestra _should_ have grown to look like her seventeen years, but she still resembles a fair-haired slip of a girl who isn’t even in her adolescence. Perhaps it is just the will of the Dark Side.

 

Vortol Ren’s pink skin, handsome face and long, indigo-colored hair seems at odds with his cobbled-together, dented black armor and threadbare tunic. The Zeltron is the only alien in their order and he has an affinity to crack minds open with the Force, aided by his species’ natural charisma and persuasiveness. Back in the Jedi days, he and Lord Ren had always shared an interest towards the so-called Mind Tricks, but old Skywalker had eventually come to frown at it and consider the practice unethical. It is fortunate that the Knights of Ren are not afraid to do what is necessary and do not seek refuge in moral outrage. Vortol is their chief interrogator and extractor of information – although all of them are adept at it as their individual tasks often required autonomous actions on the spot.

 

Odaaja Ren’s Massassi tattoos are up to her neck and jaw by now. The last time Lorredyn and Straxa saw her, the sinister Korribanian sigils and tribal symbols were only covering her arms and shoulders. Before, in the Academy, Odaaja had been interested in the antediluvian lore of the Old Republic and had done her best to help Skywalker restore the old Jedi’s wealth of knowledge that had been scattered and nearly destroyed by Palpatine’s Empire. When the Knights’ life began anew, she had delved with the same ardor into studying the Dark Side and the ways of the ancient Sith. Her pilgrimages had taken her on many far-off, forgotten worlds that even Snoke knew little about. The previous Supreme Leader had not been fond of that, but Lord Ren holds great respect for knowledge.

 

And there, of course, is Lord Ren himself.

 

He is sparring with a girl that Lorredyn and Straxa don’t know, but the brothers can feel her raw strength in the Force. Her power burns through them like a solar explosion, and the way her energy and the echoes of her fate are tied with Lord Ren’s is almost frightening. But the Knights don’t have time for fright, so they merely observe the display, as the rest had done before Lorredyn and Straxa arrived. As each of them landed at the Palace, they had been drawn here, enthralled by the surge of power in the Force.

 

Lord Ren is not fighting with his own weapon. He is wielding a blue blade with a thick hilt of pre-Imperial design and something about it resonates with the very core of his signature in the aether.

 

The girl is the one who uses the crossguard lightsaber with its shrieking red blade.

 

The Knights might have thought it odd – disrespectful, even – had each of them not felt the crackling knot in the Force where Lord Ren and the girl are supposed to be.

 

“It’s good to see you two managed to arrive before the coronation,” Taenestra tears her gaze from the duel for a few seconds to look at Lorredyn and Straxa. There is something about her, the way her eyes seem too old for her childish face.

“We came as soon as word reached us,” Straxa shrugs. Lorredyn says nothing, of course. He hasn’t spoken in years, ever since the Academy burned. “We just had to pacify a few trouble-makers on our way here.”

“Is Hux in charge of organizing the military parade?” young Taenestra asks nobody in particular. “It seems like the fool has summoned the whole army and the navy to boot here.”

“Yeah, from what I gather he’s been trying to give himself an aneurysm ever since they came back from Crait,” Castior’s voice is thick with contempt.

“Speaking of the general,” Vortol interjects, his voice silky and soft, the slimy Zeltronian accent grating against their ears. “He is as blind as he is zealous. We really ought to put a tighter leash around his neck.”

“Or just take his head off altogether,” Castior snorts. “We have plenty of other enthusiasts who can yell at starship crews just as well and with less spittle flying around.”

“He’s not to be trusted,” Taenestra nods, “His fear of Snoke held his stupidity in check, but he still clings to his ridiculous rivalries.” She looks up at them as Lord Ren parries a blow from the girl. “He’s not loyal to us and he knows nothing of the Force.”

“Sooner or later he’s going to become a problem,” Vortol adds, driving a hand through his long, purple hair. “Perhaps Cas is right and it would have been wiser to do away with him at once. Especially if he was attached to Snoke.”

“Snoke was always meant to die,” Odaaja’s voice suddenly rasps and the other Knights turns their heads to look at the dark oracle. This is the first time she speks, and she does so without bothering to meet anyone’s eyes. “This is the way of the Dark Side. The apprentice must kill the master. This little general, however, is no danger to Lord Ren and he has his uses.”

“So...” Straxa hesitates, as the two lightsaber blades collide and shriek, “When are we going to address _that_?”

 

There isn’t need for him to specify what he speaks of.

 

Lord Ren and the girl fight almost as if they were dancing. Straxa notices him sinking deep into the movements of Djem So, raining riposts and counterattacks for each blow the girls deals at him. The Way of the Krayt Dragon is a powerful form of lightsaber combat, and Lord Ren is using his natural advantage in size and strength to their full potential, the wide slashes of the blue blade he’s fighting with leaving cobalt traces in the air.

 

Which is not to say that his opponent isn’t formidable in her own right, Straxa forces himself to admit.

 

She obviously lacks a formal training, but she makes up for it in spades.

 

She seems like she can somehow instinctively utilize Ataru, or at least something that resembles it, her nimble frame perfectly suited for the controlled aggression and quick footwork that made the Way of the Hawk-Bat such a lethal form. The way she spins Lord Ren’s lightsaber around is certainly creative, engulfing her in a translucent cage of red light, and she makes very good use of the crossguard blades both for attack and defense.

 

The Force is like a whirpool of raw, booming might around them, and the way their lightsabers clash together every time makes the Knights squint and fight not to flinch whenever showers of sparks erupt from the contact.

 

“They have been at it since before me and Cas arrived,” Taenestra pouts. “And we were the first.”

“Who _is_ she?” Vortol’s eyes follow the duel closely, a small frown settling on his face. He doesn’t like getting surprised by the unknown, and that girl is nothing if not an embodiment of the unknown for the Knights.

 

To an onlooker it might seem odd how the Knights can converse so freely without getting a reaction from Lord Ren or his opponent, but such an onlooker couldn’t sense how locked the two of them were in the Force. Straxa didn’t doubt that they were so focused on their duel that they had barely registered the Knights’ presence, let alone actually hear their voices. Too far gone in the Force and each other for that.

 

Suddenly, it is over.

 

The girl vaults over Lord Ren’s head and his sideway slash, lands behind him and swirls the red lightsaber at his neck.

 

Before the Knights manage to even consider moving in, however, he manages to duck, swing his body around and use his right ankle to sweep her legs from under her. One of her hands drops the crossguarded hilt and grabs at his collar, yanking it sharply and taking him down with her.

 

It seems almost like a miracle that they manage to deactivate their lightsabers just as they both fall in a tangle of limbs.

 

Or perhaps it is not a miracle at all, and every move had been perfectly planned and executed.

 

“It’s a draw,” the girl says, sounding out of breath.

 

“Again, it seems,” Lord Ren agrees as they disentangle from each other and find their footing.

 

The Knights await, patient and obedient.

 

Straxa feels a jolt of power moving the air around as Lord Ren briefly turns his dark eyes away from the girl and finally sees his brothers and sisters in arms.

 

“It appears we have company,” he says evenly when he looks back at the brown-haired girl. “I believe some introductions may be in order.”

 

“There’s no need,” she takes a few steadying breaths and hands Lord Ren’s saber back to him as she relaxes her shoulders and moves towards the half-circle the Knights had formed around their duel. Her gait is confident and self-assured.

 

Suddenly none of them can move a muscle, the Force thickening around each of them. Straxa feels his own heartbeat quicken.

 

She stops before Castior Ren first, looking up at his scarred, bearded face for a few seconds. “Killer,” she says, simply, and moves on.

 

Next she stares down at Taenestra Ren and tilts her head slightly. “Liar.”

 

Vortol Ren follows and Straxa notices beads of sweat glistening against his pink skin. “Torturer,” is the girl’s assessment of the Zeltron before she walks away from him.

 

“Oracle,” she hums, looking Odaaja Ren’s tattoos up and down.

 

And then she’s standing before Lorredyn and Straxa, staring deeply in the brothers’ faces. Up close, Straxa can tell she’s incredibly young. Older than Taenestra, but not by _that_ much, and beautiful in a strange, frightening way. Something in the way she moves reminds him of a predator. She spends a few more seconds on them than she did with the rest.

 

“Loyal,” is all she says before she turns her back on the Knights and walks back towards Lord Ren.

 

And then, the invisible hold is broken and the Knights fall on their knees, taking deep gulps of air and trying not to visibly shiver.

 

“You’ve trained them well,” Straxa hears her voice and looks back at her and Lord Ren. He’s snaked a black-clad arm around her waist and stares intently down at her. “They will do,” she declares.

 

“L-Lord Ren?” Vortol is the first to speak, his voice finally lost his smug edge.

 

Lord Ren lets go of the girl and looks down at the kneeling Darksiders.

 

“I have a task for you, my Knights,” he says and Straxa can almost physically feel the others’ relief and ardor at hearing their Master’s voice address them in the flesh once more. “Are you capable of completing it?”

 

“Anything, Lord Ren!” Castior declares, his big chest moving up and down as he breathes heavily.

 

“You have to but to command us and we will obey, as we always have,” Odaaja bows her head.

 

“Very well,” Lord Ren nods. “Because I need you to find and destroy the Resistance.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8**

 

Hours after the coronation, sleep still eludes her.

 

The Coruscant night is something she’s never experienced. It’s not cold like Jakku was, nor as windy as Ahch-To, but both those worlds had also been relatively quiet and peaceful. Coruscant isn’t.

 

The planetwide city is teeming with life, and that life doesn’t stop when it gets dark. Even if she couldn’t feel it in the Force, all Rey had to do was to take a look through the huge windows of their new bedchamber and marvel at the sea of flickering, colorful lights that surrounds the spires of the Imperial Palace. Holographic displays of all sizes and shapes imaginable line the walls of countless skyscrapers, never stopping to try and seduce people into buying this or experiencing that. Millions of speeders flash by them each second, drowning the night in the noises of never-ending traffic. And as Coruscant is built on layers upon layers of city, new added above the old, all of that stretches not only to the horizon in all directions, but also downwards as well.

 

The result is a cacophony of color and sound that the night does absolutely nothing to alleviate.

 

It’s overwhelming.

 

And perhaps the city alone wouldn’t have managed to disturb her sleep all that much; after all, she is nothing if not adaptable, but Rey is also still reliving everything that happened today, and her body still feels as a taut spring, her spirit humming with energy. She’s far too excited and tired for sleep.

 

She rolls slightly on the enormous bed and looks at Ben, who is sleeping like the dead, his massive chest rising and falling slowly.

 

This is not the first time they share a bed. And it certainly won’t be the last, not after today.

 

It began after Crait, when the First Order fleet limped back to the Kuat Drive Yards to repair the ships that were was left of it, and salvage what they could from what was beyond repair. After the searing kisses they had shared in the old rebel base, staggering together into Ben’s personal quarters seemed like something that was barely worth mentioning. The two of them had been so exhausted that it took them less than a minute to literally collapse on his bed in a heap of tangled limbs and fall into heavy sleep without even removing their garments. Waking up together, both of them covered in caked layers of dried sweat, ash, grime and salt that coated their clothes had been less than thrilling, but on the other hand there was no room for awkwardness between them, not anymore, and cleaning up was not that difficult. They had slept in each other’s arms ever since.

 

Filthy clothing is no longer a problem, Rey muses. It will never be a problem again.

 

It’s perhaps a little pathetic how odd that thought is to the former desert rat. Luxury is not something she’s familiar with, but she supposes one can learn to tolerate the comfortable mattress and the bed sheets of soft Serennian silk. The smooth, flowing materials and the exquisite designs are nothing like the squalor she once called living, and the bedchamber smells of cleanliness and soothing fragrances instead of the rot and the rust she’s used to.

 

Ben mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep and unconsciously rolls his body closer to hers, placing a heavy, muscular arm across her belly. She lets him, welcoming the weight of his touch. He had told her that he used to be tormented by nightmares all his life, but, oddly enough, Rey has never witnessed any disturbance in his sleep ever since the Force brought them together. She doesn’t know if she should attribute it to Snoke’s death or to their bond. Slowly, she reaches a hand to his face and very softly traces the line of the scar she gave him back on Starkiller with her fingertips.

 

Rey does like sharing a bed with him.

 

Sleep, however, is not to be had tonight.

 

So she gently wriggles herself from beneath his arm and pads barefoot to the tall windows that overlook the city. Their city.

 

She stares down at Coruscant and still can’t believe that the whole planet belongs to her now. The concept is more or less abstract to a former scavenger, but she’s not opposed to the intoxicating rush of it anyways.

 

She glances up. There are fewer visible stars than on Jakku, thanks to the enormous levels of light pollution, and she can barely spot the distant shadows of the vessels of the entire First Order navy, black against the night sky lit from the city below. On her command those starships can now carry her to every corner of the Galaxy worth mentioning and on every planet she would set her foot on people will know that their Empress has come.

 

Empress.

 

The word itself makes her breath hitch in her throat.

 

When the First Order arrived at Coruscant the planet capitulated without any bloodshed. Following the destruction of Hosnian Prime and the Senate stationed there, Coruscant’s ancient status as the Galactic capitol was going to be restored, Ben had claimed. With the New Republic in shambles, their armies and government obliterated in a single fell swoop, the First Order took hold of the planetwide city effortlessly.

 

All the better, in Rey’s opinion. The less opposition they faced, the better for everyone.

 

And only a few short days later the Galaxy received their Emperor and Empress, crowned atop the former Imperial Senate Rotunda. General Hux had organized most of it, putting together an enormous parade consisting of tight rows of white-armored Stormtroopers and an assortment of various military vehicles that raised their cannons to the sky and blasted salutes in honor of Emperor Kylo Ren and his Empress, Kira Ren.

 

The idea of her new, Imperial identity still seems a little ridiculous, but she recognizes that she couldn’t exactly be hailed as Rey the Scavenger From Jakku Who Hitched It With The Resistance For A Little While Until She Found Her Bondmate. It wasn’t as if she had a family name of her own, anyways.

 

She had sensed the displeasure of the Knights of Ren ringing in the Force, but the six Darksiders had managed to keep themselves under control, standing firm behind Ben and Rey, clad in black armor and obsidian masks. They had left Coruscant to search for the Resistance immediately after the coronation was over, and as long as they obeyed their orders and didn’t get any foolish notions, Rey couldn’t care less about their thoughts. The Knights were insignificant, just like Hux was, just like anyone who wasn’t Ben. All she required of them was to do their bidding and help her and Ben reforge the Galaxy and fulfill their destiny.

 

The whole affair had been broadcasted across the Galaxy so everyone could witness the moment when two circlets made of pale gold and of simplistic, elegant design had been placed upon the brows of the Emperor and the Empress. Rey and Ben had been dressed in matching outfits in the black and the red of the First Order – now reborn as the Last Empire – a huge cloak billowing behind him, his long black hair waving in the wind, and her encased in a form-fitting gown that cost more than everything she had ever owned over her whole life put together.

 

Most worlds in the Core had already declared their allegiance to the Last Empire, and more missives acknowledging their authority were coming from the Colonies with every hour. They have no choice. The Last Empire is the only real power left in the Galaxy. The individual worlds must either bend or be broken. The Inner and the Mid Rims will take longer, Rey knows, and the Outer Rim is a lesser concern for now.

 

She also knows that it won’t always be a smooth sailing.

 

There will be those who will oppose them, people blind to the Force and the future, and they will have no choice but to crush them. Hopefully making a lesson out of the Resistance will be enough once the Knights of Ren find them. She doesn’t cherish the thought, after all she _knows_ the people whose deaths she ordered, but she doesn’t flinch from it either. She and Ben have a destiny and they are threatening to poison it.

 

Rey feels her bondmate’s mind stirring awake in the Force and she turns to look at him. He’s opened his eyes, watching her in what appears to be a warm daze.

 

“Go back to sleep,” she tells him softly, but he doesn’t listen and gets up from the enormous bed instead, walking towards her until his bare torso is pressed to her back, his big hands resting on her hips.

 

Every touch of his feels natural and it makes the Force sing in her veins. She leans into him.

 

“What is it?” He simply asks her.

“Nothing, really,” she sighs, “I’m just too wired up to sleep, I suppose.”

 

She feels him pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Ben admits, and she doesn’t need to ask him what he means exactly.

 

Though it’s still amusing to her.

 

“Easy?” She snorts. “ _I_ thought the coronation would never be over. And don’t even get me started on the outfits.”

Her mirth is contagious enough to make him smile. “I meant taking over the Galaxy,” he laughs. “It took Palpatine a lifetime and a fabricated civil war to accomplish what we did in a week.”

“Together we’re stronger than him,” Rey says, turning slightly to kiss his neck. “We’re stronger than your grandfather. We’re stronger than the Jedi of the Old Republic. Nothing can stop us, Ben. Why _shouldn’t_ we take over in a week?”

“You do know that this is just the beginning?” His breathing is getting heavier as he spins her around and bends down to claim her mouth in a passionate kiss. They have gotten better at kissing since Crait. Practice does that.

“I know,” she nods when she breaks the kiss so she can take a breath and then steals another one, lifting herself up on her tiptoes. “That’s what I was thinking about before you woke up and began distracting me.”

He gives her a small, lopsided smirk.

 

“We can think about all that in the morning. Come back to bed so I can distract you some more, my Empress.”

 

Stars, if a month ago someone had told her that the dark warrior she fought on Starkiller could say something so silly and yet make her do as he wants anyway, she would have laughed in their face. Or punched them in the face. She's not sure, in all honesty. 

 

But that was before the bond.

 

Before the promise of the Force.

 

So she lets him take her hand and she follows him back towards the bed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

 

As the _Millenium Falcon_ is hurtling itself through hyperspace, Finn once again replays the holorecording of the coronation on Coruscant and his heart still clenches painfully inside his chest, like it does every time he sees Ren and Rey appearing atop that great dome, hand in hand.

 

He doesn’t think the others understand.

 

Poe and Rose never met Rey. And while General Organa and Chewbacca _did_ know her, he realizes that for them it was different. To them she was just a member of the Resistance. Just a Jedi. Just an ally and a friend.

 

To Finn, she’s the second one after Poe who ever looked at him and saw a person, not a number.

 

He can’t verbally impress how monumentally important this is to him. He’s not good with words, not like the General is, nor is he a smooth talker with a sharp wit like Poe. He used to be just a simple soldier. He still is, he supposes. Only, now he’s fighting on the right side.

 

And Rey has gone to the wrong one.

 

What does that mean? Finn wishes he knows.

 

At first, a part of him had been desperate to think that the whole thing was not what it seemed. That somehow she had been coerced or threatened to go along with whatever the First Order wanted her to do. Ren had always been a sick bastard, he wouldn’t have put it past him to do something like that, and if the rumors he had heard back when he had been a Stormtrooper were true, Snoke was much worse than Ren.

 

But Rey was not someone who was easily cowed. That much he had learned as early as their almost-botched escape from Jakku.

 

What could have the First Order possibly threatened her with to make her do their bidding?

 

Her friends, perhaps, and that would make sense, only... the First Order had come after the Resistance anyways.

 

Then his mind had jumped to another possibility, remembering the mental conditioning the Stormtroopers were forced to go through. Could they have brainwashed her? Didn’t sound impossible.

 

But Rey was a Jedi, or at least had gone to train to become one when she went to Ahch-To to find Luke Skywalker, and you couldn’t brainwash a Jedi, right?

 

Finn is a simple man. And he eventually came to a simple conclusion, as much as it hurts him.

 

She simply switched sides. He’s not sure _why_ , but he’s pretty sure it had been voluntary.

 

It clicked inside his head suddenly, about an hour after the news first reached them, when they found out about Snoke’s “assassination at the hands of the Resistance” and the First Order arriving at Coruscant and proclaiming they’re going to rebuild the Empire.

 

Rey and Ren killed Snoke and took over. Of that, he has no doubt. He can’t comprehend how she could just ally herself with the guy who murdered Han, but maybe he just didn’t know Rey as well as he thought. Maybe sometimes people were more important to you than you were to them.

 

Finn is not sure if he’s supposed to hate her now.

 

He doesn’t.

 

He just misses his friend.

 

He never got to introduce her to Poe, after all he had told the pilot about her, how brave and kind and forgiving she was. He never got to pull her aside so he could ask her advice how best to talk to girls so he could woo Rose properly. He never got to ask her how her Jedi training went and to wheedle her to show off for him with a few tricks of the Force.

 

He will never get to do any of this now.

 

Now he gets to watch once more a holovideo of Empress Kira Ren standing next to the man who put Finn in a coma and lowering her head so a richly-dressed guy with tentacles for a face can put a crown on her.

 

He turns the recording off when he hears a commotion outside the former storage room-turned bunking space he shares with Poe.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks a young Twi’lek dressed in a stained jumpsuit who’s just running past his door, her boots thumping loudly against the freighter’s metallic floor. Her name is Jerella and she is a mechanic who wants to be a pilot one day. He knows everyone in the Resistance by name by now. That’s how few of them are left.

 

“There’s news!” She answers excitedly as she hurries towards the common room. “The General called for everybody, didn’t you hear?”

 

He hadn’t. Too preoccupied rewatching Rey’s coronation and feeling sorry for himself.

 

“No, I was, uh, taking a nap,” he says, feeling stupid, as he trails after Jerella.

 

The common room feels like the most cramped place in the Galaxy. No matter how little the Resistance has become, the _Falcon_ is still not a large enough ship for all of them.

 

Finn walks in and his eyes search for his friends. He spots Rose next to the dejarik board and tries to gently elbow his way towards her. Poe is here too, talking quietly with the General. At their feet R2-D2 is using his projector to create a holomap of the Galaxy that hovers in the air around their heads. BB-8 is rolling around the astromech droid, beeping and chirruping.

 

Rey used to be able to understand what BB-8 was saying, Finn recalls as he finally makes it through to Rose.

 

She looks up at him, and he suddenly gets the unpleasant feeling that she somehow knows exactly what he has been doing. And somehow he’s sure she’ll get to all the wrong conclusions. And he sure won’t be able to explain cause, after all, the closest he ever got to being intimate with a woman before Rose kissed him back on Crait had been when Captain Phasma dislocated his shoulder once when he served as an example in hand-to-hand combat training.

 

Before Rose could say anything, however, the General got everyone’s attention.

 

“Thanks to the Last Empire regularly broadcasting boasts across the Galaxy about the growth of their dominion,” Leia Organa begins without mincing words in preambles, “it hasn’t been difficult to keep track of their movements.” BB-8 rolls around the map that R2 is projecting and turns its own holoemitter on, painting swaths of star systems in red, spilling from Coruscant like a blood stain. “Corellia has recently declared for the Empire and their shipwrights are supposedly already working together with the Kuat Drive Yards on an even bigger navy.” Worried murmurs flare around Finn as he listens to their leader. “The Inter-Galactic Banking Clan has joined up as well, so we shouldn’t expect the Empire to run out of credits to pay for all those ships anytime soon.” The General speaks calmly and clearly, and doesn’t seem perturbed or afraid to Finn, but then again, maybe she’s just good at hiding it. “Those two were the snowball that rolled down the hill and got the others following,” Leia says dryly. “Pretty much the whole Core is considered Imperial territory by now, as are most of the Colonies and even a few Inner Rim worlds,” Finn spots BB-8 putting translucent crimson splotches around Onderon, Quarzite, Riosa and Denon. The General regards the reddening holomap for a moment. “You’re probably thinking how bleak it looks from where we stand.”

“That’s an understatement,” Finn doesn’t so much hear Poe’s voice as he reads his friend’s lips. The dark-haired pilot has his arms crossed in front of his chest and looks unhappy. It must really be bad out there if Poe is worried.

 

The General doesn’t acknowledge Poe’s muttering. “Well, you’d be wrong,” she declares simply and R2’s projection zooms in, deep into the territory of the growing Last Empire. Finn sees a planet almost entirely surrounded by Imperial red. But it appears it hasn’t joined yet. “This here,” Leia points to the world, “is Balmorra. One of the biggest weapon manufacturing worlds in the whole Galaxy. And it refuses to join the Last Empire.”

“How do we know?” Finn hears someone in the small crowd ask, but he’s too interested in what the General has to say to pay attention who it was.

“Because they aren’t speaking about it,” Leia says, as if that is somehow explaining everything. Finn feels really out of his depth. “And also...” She nods at BB-8 who has stopped outlining the Empire’s expanding borders and switches its holoprojector to pull up an image of a young man. He looks a bit like a fop to Finn, with nice clothes, curly brown hair, an easy smile and a carefully trimmed goatee. “This is Banzar Refe,” the General says, “He’s from Balmorra and he is the last living Senator of the New Republic. He was off-world when Hosnian Prime was destroyed.”

“General, may I?” Poe’s voice _almost_ interrupts Leia, startling Finn, and she gives the pilot a nod, without giving away any outward sign of disapproval. “Senator Refe was a Centrist,” Poe says and Finn isn’t sure if he’s supposed to know what that means. It’s probably something political and hence way beyond his competence, but he listens to what Poe has to say anyway. Poe is a smart guy, and he knows a lot. “And Balmorra was never a huge friend to the Republic. You yourself used to say that the Centrists are half-way Imperials. I _really_ don’t think that we should be putting a lot of hope on Refe somehow growing a conscience and refusing to play ball with the Rens.”

“Half-way Imperial is not the same as a true Imperial,” Leia replies, her voice far too smooth when she ignores the mention of the Emperor and the Empress. “I may have never liked them and their power plays were nefarious, but some of them did genuinely want to help the Republic.”

“So what, then? We go to Balmorra, we meet with Refe and then what?” Poe insists, his jaw tight and his shoulders rigid. The stress of worrying about the lives of his last comrades is getting to him, Finn realizes. “Convince him to make weapons for us instead of the Empire? We still need people to shoot the guns, General.”

“I care less about his weapons and more about the symbol. If a powerful planet like Balmorra officially refuses to join the Empire, others may consider it too. If the last Senator of the New Republic openly denounces the government that got to power through genocide, people will listen,” the General is getting a little worked up now, her voice not quite as collected as it had been before. “We can’t stop the Last Empire if we simply spend the rest of our lives hiding from them, Poe.”

 

Poe opens his mouth to retort, but then the lights in the common room flicker and the _Falcon_ shakes violently. Rose almost loses her balance and Finn grabs her arm to help her steady herself. He can hear R2 and BB-8 beeping in what, ridiculously, sounds like fright.

 

“We just left hyperspace...” Poe looks around to see if everyone is okay before wondering aloud, “What just happened?”

“Chewie?” Leia contacts the Wookie pilot through the intercom, “Chewie, what’s going on?”

A series of frustrated growls and roars cuts through the static in answer. Finn doesn’t understand a word of it, but when Leia gasps, “A First Order Star Destroyer? How?” his blood runs cold and all he can think is, _they found us_ , and it’s as if he’s back on Takodana, pleading with Rey to flee from this war with him. He tightens his hand around Rose’s shoulders.

 

The General and Poe rush towards the cockpit together, argument forgotten, and Finn and Rose follow closely. When they get there, Finn sees the massive grey shape looming right in front of the transparisteel viewports and his throat tightens.

 

“What do you mean, they were suddenly right before our path in hyperspace?!” Leia asks the Wookie who growls out what Finn suspects is the Wookie variation of _How am I supposed to know?!_

 

“They made us stop,” Poe whispers. “They knew we would exit hyperspace or we would have crashed into them.”

 

And then a sharp, loud sound violently rips its way through the _Falcon_ ’s intercoms, making them all cry out at the pain that erupts in their ears. It’s over quickly, and when it is, a harsh voice echoes through the ship.

 

“ _Leia Organa and crew of the Millenium Falcon,_ ” it says. “ _This is Castior Ren, Knight of the Last Empire. Prepare to be destroyed._ ”

 

With a sharp static noise, the transmission is over.

 

And the Star Destroyer opens fire at them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

 

The _Falcon_ barely manages the avoid the first volley of turbolaser fire that the Star Destroyer unleashes at it, Chewie roaring in frustrated defiance as he sends the small freighter into a spiraling spin.

 

Leia nearly loses her balance but Finn manages to grab at her and help her steady herself as he’s holding Rose with his other arm. She is silently grateful to the former Stormtrooper for it.

 

Poe, on the other hand, almost _jumps_ into the free pilot seat next to Chewie and takes over the flight controls leaving the Wookie to focus on maintaining the _Falcon_ ’s shields and engine, swearing profusely in a way that would make a Hutt blush.

 

“How did they _know_ where we are?!” he grumbles angrily. “We plotted our course randomly!”

 

Leia remembers the harsh voice that had come from the Star Destroyer’s brief transmission. There is at least one Knight of Ren on that ship, and even the small amount of intel the Resistance has on these elite First Order warriors suggests that they possess some... unnatural abilities.

 

Which, she knows, is another way to describe the Force.

 

 _Can the Force do that?_ She wonders silently. _Make you sense your prey so well in advance that you could lay out the perfect ambush?_

 

Luke would know, Leia supposes, but Luke is gone. Even her father would be helpful right now, but of course, his ghost is nowhere to be seen when he might be of actual use.

 

Another burst of turbolaser fire paints the space in green for a second as Poe weaves the _Falcon_ between the deadly beams. He’s never piloted the freighter, but it’s not by chance that he’s hailed as the best flyboy in the Resistance. Almost grudgingly, Leia admits to herself that even Han wouldn’t be much better at it and he’d had decades of experience with the _Falcon._

 

“They’re unloading TIEs,” Chewie warns them in Shyriiwook as he takes a glance at the radar display.

 

“I see them,” Poe answers as he avoids yet another blast and sends the freighter careening to the left before making a sharp turn down to evade _another_ one. “Buddy, you and Rose go mount the turrets,” he clenches his jaw, beads of sweat falling down his brow. In her heart Leia understands him well, he is as afraid for the lives of the members of the Resistance as she is.

 

“Got it,” Finn answers and quickly makes his way out of the cockpit.

 

The dance through space gets even deadlier and swifter, and soon Leia has to grip the pilot seat so tightly just to keep her balance and prevent herself from falling down that her hands hurt. Her stomach is queasy and her heart is beating madly inside her chest.

 

Is this is how it really ends, she wonders darkly.

 

Suddenly the lights black out for a moment and the _Falcon_ shakes so violently that she loses her footing and stumbles sideways with a startled cry only for Chewie to quickly reach out a long, hairy arm and catch her in time. They have taken a hit, she realizes as an alarm on the control panel next to Chewie starts beeping in warning.

 

“Damn it!” Poe yells, “We can’t go on like this indefinitely!”

 

He dives down and then circles back up in an elaborate loop and through the viewport Leia can see their turrets using the sudden shift in angle to blow up one of the chasing TIE fighters. There are far too many on their tail, raining fire on them, though, for her to feel any sort of relief.

 

They take another hit from the TIEs when Poe has to jerk the _Falcon_ up in order to weave out of the path of a proton torpedo that the Star Destroyer launched, inadvertently putting them in the path of the flock of smaller but faster and more agile pursuers. This time the tremor that hits the freighter is so brutal that it manages to bring Liea down, sending her flying out of Chewie’s arm and right to the hard floor.

 

Her bones rattle and she groans in pain. She can vaguely hear the frightened voices of the rest of the Resistance down in the common room.

 

She struggles to lift herself off the floor, but as she’s still kneeling and taking deep breathes to try and calm her heartbeat down, her vision blurs and for a split second she can swear that she can see six black, masked figures in the dark corners of the cockpit, almost melting into the shadows and watching her like carrion eaters. They are gone the moment she blinks, but the shudder of fear that courses through her veins is very real.

 

It’s Poe’s voice that brings her mind back to focus as she slowly gets up.

 

“Buddy, I’m gonna try and line a shot for you,” he speaks through the intercom. “Try and take out as many of the TIEs you can _now_. We have to jump to hyperspace.”

“ _On it,_ ” Finn’s voice crackles in response. “ _Do it, Poe._ ”

 

And as he spins the _Falcon_ madly in a half-circle that opens the TIE fighters for retaliation from their turrets, Leia suddenly knows what she has to do.

 

As TIEs explode in fiery flashes behind them, she rushes to the dashboard, using all the strength she has left, and manages to put in coordinates before Poe can do it.

 

“General, what are you d...” he doesn’t have time to finish before she grabs the relay and turns it sharply.

 

The blackness of space brightens so fast that she’s momentarily blinded.

 

The jump is a short one, over in less than a minute.

 

They exit hyperspace just outside the gravity well of a planet and are greeted by the sight of a large space station lined with superlaser cannons, ion emitters and heavy ordinance nests.

 

“What’s...” Poe’s confused voice quiets down for a second as he takes a look at the coordinates and his face hardens. “ _Balmorra._ ”

 

Leia knows he has finally uncovered her plan.

 

“We were going there the whole time, weren’t we?” She can tell that the pilot’s question is rhetorical as he turns around in his seat to glare at her, his teeth clenched tightly. “The whole speech before was just for show, wasn’t it? You had already made up your mind.”

 

“Yes,” she answers simply because she does feel like she owes him the truth. “I know I’m right, Poe. This is our only hope now.”

 

“I _know_ I plotted a random series of jumps,” he says darkly. “Did you go behind my back to change it?”

“I did it,” Chewie offers gallantly in Shyriiwook.

“I told you to,” Leia refuses to allow his attempt to take on the blame. “If you want to hold someone responsible, hold me,” she adds to Poe.

“I can’t believe this,” the pilot shakes his head, suddenly sounding exhausted.

 

The argument is cut short when a signal from the space station above Balmorra hails them to slow down.

 

“ _Unidentified vessel, this is Balmorran Orbital Command,_ ” a voice comes through the comms as Poe grudgingly opens the transmission channel up. “ _Identify yourselves and your purpose in our space immediately or be prepared to be fired upon._ ”

 

“This is General Leia Organa Solo of the Resistance aboard the _Millenium Falcon_ ,” she declares, summoning all the commanding dignity she can into her voice. “We request permission to land on Balmorra and meet with Senator Banzar Refe.”

 

Before the Balmorran Orbital Command can answer, a shiver runs down Leia’s spine and the Star Destroyer that nearly was their doom exits hyperspace behind them.

 

“ _Shit!_ ” Poe curses loudly and reaches for the flight controls, immediately ready to flee from the huge ship once more.

 

But he doesn’t have anywhere to go. The Star Destroyer is at their back and the Balmorran armed space station is in front.

 

This is it, Leia thinks.

 

Through the viewport, she sees the station aligning its massive cannons and the cockpit of the _Falcon_ thunders when the blast is discharged.

 

The blue beams of galvanized gas fly towards the _Falcon..._

 

... and miss it, piercing through the hull of the Star Destroyer.

 

“ _They got hit!_ ” Finn’s excited voice yells through the intercom as he whoops in joy, “ _Those cannons tore the Destroyer apart! It’s going down, guys! It’s going down!_ ”

 

Leia finally allows herself to breathe. And then they receive another transmission from the station.

 

“ _General Organa, you have permission to land on Balmorra._ ”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11**

 

Kylo used to think that meditation is a worthless waste of time and mental energy.

 

In a way, he supposes he still holds that opinion because he’s having a difficult time thinking of what he and Rey are doing as meditation.

 

A better way to ascribe a meaning to their actions would be to say that they are strengthening their bond in the Force.

 

They have surrendered almost all control to it, anchored only barely to their physical forms, and in the Force he can no longer tell where he ends and she begins. Her heartbeat drums in his chest and his thoughts are zipping through her mind. It is so much more potent than the first time their astral projections first touched each other, he would find it staggering if it didn’t also fill him with such a deep feeling of profound acceptance, purpose and calm that a part of him wants to weep. He never suspected he could ever experience something akin to this. He never even imagined something like it before.

 

The currents of the aether bind them together, their common destiny sealed forever. The Force is all around them, engulfing them fully, and he sees neither darkness nor light. Just Rey.

 

His eyes are closed, but he can sense their surroundings with a stunning clarity that physical vision would never be able to provide.

 

They are inside their private hangar atop the Imperial Palace on Coruscant.

 

His magnificent bondmate is sitting on the floor before him, mimicking his cross-legged pose. They are close enough for their knees and feet to touch, and he feels her so strongly in the Force, her presence burning and soothing at the same time.

 

Small starships and speeders are hovering in the air, swirling around each other in aimless yet elaborate and elegant patterns that remind him a little of an opera performance he saw once in his childhood when his mother practically dragged him and his father out of their home.

 

The famous Mon Calamari Ballet had been touring across the Core, and the Solo family attended a rendition of the legendary “Squid Lake”. It was performed on a stage that was isolated in a zero-gravity field, allowing the aquatic dancers and singers to weave through colossal spheres of water that hovered and glistened under the spotlights while the underwatery-sounding arias echoed and boomed in alien sequences inside the Galaxies Opera House.

 

Tons of steel are now floating in the air of their hangar, not unlike how the giant water spheres of the Mon Calamari had done in their zero-gravity prism.

 

He vaguely wonders just how many crafts Rey owns now, and that thought, combined with his childhood memory of “Squid Lake” bleeds through to his Empress, and Kylo can sense her amusement, bright and sunny in the Force, as she reflects that what’s hers is his so he should be wondering how many ships _they_ own.

 

It began in the weeks after their coronation and the proclamation of the Last Empire’s manifest destiny across the Galaxy.

 

As one planet after another joined under their authority, dignitaries and diplomats began to flock to Coruscant, to pay their respects to the Emperor and the Empress, and to try and impress them with gifts.

 

Bribes, Kylo had called them derisively, and Rey had agreed with his opinion. When they claimed that they were going to be different than his grandfather’s Empire, the New Republic and all the other failed governments that now littered the history of their Galaxy, Kylo and Rey _meant_ it. The Last Empire was not going to be built on foundations of corruption and spineless flattery. The diplomats' desire to outdo one another with outlandishly rich gifts meant almost nothing to the Emperor and the Empress.

 

Until the ambassador from Sullust gave Rey a prototype of the newest design of the SoroSuub Corporation’s speeder bikes, complete with custom gold plating and First Order regalia.

 

She hadn’t treated the short Sullustan with any obvious favor over the rest of the dignitaries, nor did his homeworld receive any additional benefits, but some had noticed her delight in the gift anyways. His bondmate is not the best at hiding her feelings, he muses with soft affection.

 

And then her collection began growing almost daily. Landspeeders, cloud cars, jetbikes, even small shuttles... And she didn’t restrict herself to the excellent-quality gifts of the lickspittles either. On one trip they took to Coruscant’s lower levels – although not to the Undercity proper, for Kylo refused to remind Rey of the misery of squalor – much to the awed fear of the locals, she had bought a banged-up old speeder and had began to repair it in her spare time, much to Kylo’s awed fear.

 

The only ship inside their hangar that Kylo sincerely considers his own is his black TIE Silencer, which Rey is free to study and upgrade to her heart’s content as long as she keeps him up to date with her experiments.

 

Kylo is not actually ignorant on the topic of ships. He cannot pretend that flying is not in his blood. Han Solo had been a legendary pilot, and his grandfather’s fame as a Jedi ace from the days before the Empire is well-known. He knows his way around a cockpit and navigating through a space battle is not something he considers difficult or particularly dangerous.

 

But Rey takes it so much further.

 

Her love for ships runs deep and a sudden jolt of curiosity prods him to seek her out in the Force, gently parting his way through layers of memories and emotions.

 

She lets him. There are no mental walls between them anymore, and she can sense his lack of any malicious intent. The first time their minds clashed, back on Starkiller Base, feels like it happened a lifetime ago to different people. He had tried to brutally assault her psyche, and she had fought back savagely, turning the tables on him. In retrospect, he supposes that he should have known she was his one true equal back then, but he had still been too subservient to Snoke to actually think for himself on such a fundamental level.  

 

One of the first clear memories of a starship Rey has is of her parents flying away from her as they abandon her on Jakku. It’s a scar that still stings, but it’s no longer the cruel open wound she had before. She has accepted that they never mattered and that by leaving her behind, they had forsaken any claim of love and loyalty on her part. But it’s something that he can trace through the river of her life all the same.

 

Ships meant being able to leave. Ships meant freedom. Ships meant wind in your hair and sky in your eyes. Ships meant moments stolen away from misery.

 

Her natural inquisitiveness and ingenuity had taken it up from there, and living in a junkyard of a planet that was covered with the half-buried remains of dead ships had allowed her to teach herself how to tinker and do rudimentary engineering through nothing but experimentation, determination, perseverance and raw talent in the Force. Just like she taught herself everything she knew. From fighting to foraging for food in the desert to droid language. Always alone and always relying on nobody but herself.

 

So much like him, for all the family he had surrounding and suffocating him.

 

He opens his eyes and sees his Empress already looking at him, an odd expression on her face. Her brown hair is let loose for once, falling in a beautiful cascade of lazy curls. Kylo is pleased to once again notice that the luxury of their standing appears to agree with her. Her skin glows softer now, a lifetime of scabs, scars and exposure to rust storms, sun burns and sand flurries finally allowed to begin healing, and her bones don’t seem so pronounced under her flesh anymore thanks to regular, healthy meals. He will have nothing but the best for Rey.

 

“What is it?” He asks her, noticing the question in her hazel eyes.

“Why do you think we’re _that_ alike? You didn’t grow up in isolation.” There is no resentment in her voice, only honest curiosity.

 

He relaxes his back and rolls his shoulders, and simply opens his being to her, a silent invitation amidst the hovering ships and the Force pulsing in tact with their hearts.

 

He has nothing to hide from his bondmate, and when he feels her entering his consciousness, the sensation is surprisingly pleasurable. It’s nothing like the way Snoke used to violate his mind. Rey is gentle and respectful, and he lets her see all she desires.

 

The way his mother was always too busy for him, fighting political opponents in the Senate, cutting deals, making speeches and public appearances, and building the New Republic.

 

The way his father looked at him sideways, apprehension ringing through his core whenever he thought of his son’s Force-sensitivity. Preferring to sail on ridiculous adventures through space with his friends than stay home with a wife that was becoming more and more estranged as the years flew by and a son he subconsciously fears.

 

The way his uncle stumbles through his education and goes through the motions, not emotionally equipped to be the real role model his nephew needed.

 

The way he was the odd one out in that clan of heroes and living legends. His mother built the New Republic. His father was a dashing rogue who flew a fabled ship. His uncle defeated the Sith. Even the man he was named after, Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, was almost a figure of Galactic folklore, a Jedi General from the Clone Wars who loomed over him from the annals of history.

 

He may not have grown fighting scavengers for scraps of food, but in his heart he had felt just as alone as Rey had in her toppled AT-AT where she marked the flow of the years on the metal walls.

 

When they look at each other again, she frowns and says, “You don’t hate them.”

 

It’s a statement rather than a question and he tilts his head slightly.

 

“That’s what you took from it?” Kylo asks and feels a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“I just...” She visibly struggles to find the words she’s looking for. “I thought, when you killed Han...”

“That I did it out of malice?”

“Well, yes,” she shrugs.

 

Kylo sighs. He knows his bondmate had been fond of his father, and can see why, in retrospect.

 

“He was my _father_ ,” he says softly. “I didn’t hate him. I may not have _liked_ him, but I didn’t take joy in it. When I drove my lightsaber through his chest,” he swallows, “I thanked him. Sacrifice is not supposed to be easy, Rey, or it’s no sacrifice at all.”

“He was going to drag you away from your path,” she whispers, and he hears some semblance of understanding in her voice.

“He almost succeeded,” Kylo nods. “And had I listened to him, had I gone back with him as he wanted, none of this,” his eyes flicker around the hangar and the floating ships until they land on her, “none of it, would be real. Snoke knew that this was going to be my greatest challenge and had ordered me to kill him. I did as my master bid me, and as much as it hurt,” he allows himself to drink deeply from the luminous energy of her presence in the Force, “As much as it _still_ hurts, I am thankful that I didn’t stray from my destiny.”

“I understand,” she tells him, and he knows it’s not just an empty phrase. “That’s why you need your mother and her Resistance dead, too.”

“Yes,” Kylo looks deep into her eyes, “I envy you a little, you know.”

“Why?”

“Because your parents are already dead,” he shrugs, “You won’t have to spend the rest of your life as the person who killed her own mother and father.”

She slowly nods, understanding his meaning. Had her parents lived to see the daughter they abandoned in the wasteland become the Empress of the Galaxy, they would have had to die too so Rey’s future would not be beholden to her past.

“Do you regret it?” She asks. “Killing Han, and ordering the Knights to kill Leia?”

“You ask a complicated question, but if I must boil it down to a simple answer, then, no, I do not,” he says with deep conviction, meeting her gaze with his own once more. “I almost failed to kill my father, and in the battle with the Resistance before you came to the _Supremacy_ , I did fail to end my mother’s life. But it’s all worth it, Rey. Just because it hurts, it doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

 

He can feel wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes, and Rey must notice it too, because before he can blink she’s no longer sitting across him and moves to straddle him, caressing his face and giving him a soothing kiss.

 

 _I understand you,_ her energy whispers to his in the Force, _I accept you, you are not alone._

 

Which is when Hux chooses to come running into their hangar because of course he does.

 

“Your Majesties!” He yells and Kylo and Rey look at him in a single, fluid motion that stops him in his tracks as he stares slack-jawed at the ships that hover slowly in the air.

 

“Do you actually have a habit of barging in on your commanders?” Rey’s annoyance flares in the Force, not truly _dangerous_ , but not really amused either.

“As a matter of fact, he does,” Kylo sighs, “You’d be surprised how often he used to do it with me and Snoke,”

“Please pardon my unannounced intrusion, Your Majesties,” Hux says primly, forcing his eyes to lower away from the ships and meet the combined glares of the Emperor and the Empress. “But I bear news of utmost importance.”

 

Kylo regards him for a second. Hux is a curious one. Contradictory. The two of them always disliked each other, and he has nothing but barely-contained mistrust and derision for Rey, and yet, at the same time, Kylo cannot sense any sort of disloyalty inside the General when it comes to the Last Empire itself. He hates the Emperor and the Empress, and at the same time he loves what they built and the promise of how great it can yet become. And all of that is buried beneath layers of fear of the Force.

 

Mostly, Kylo wants to split him open with his lightsaber from head to groin and just rid himself of Hux and his contradictions, but he recognizes that this man is willing to die for the Last Empire. Not for its rulers, perhaps, but for what it truly stands for. A strong, united Galaxy under a single, glorious Empire.

 

So, for now, he just resigns himself to his fate and asks, “What is it? Yet another planet joining us? Want to bet on who it is this time?” He squeezes Rey’s hips, not at all bothered by Hux’s scandalized expression.

Rey thinks it through for a moment. “It has to be an unusual one to make him so... insolent,” she hums slightly, “Mandalore?”

“An Outer Rim nest of warlike tribes? Please. It has to be a powerful one. Fondor.”

 

Kylo almost hears Hux gritting his teeth and allows himself to enjoy the man’s ire.

 

“Unfortunately,” the General says, his tone dripping with affronted dignity, “the news is not of this sort, Your Majesties. It’s about the Resistance. The Knights of Ren reported finding them and giving chase, until their Star Destroyer was shot down in the orbit of Balmorra.”

 

The deafening crash of the numerous speeders and starships that hovered in the air just a heartbeat ago makes the hangar tremble.


End file.
